My King
by Masqued
Summary: DB!Dovahkiin/Ulfric S. "If I asked you to stay?" She looked at him with complete honesty. "I would be forced to obey my king." He asked, "Will you leave?" She sighed. "Yes," she said. "But I will always return."


Skyrim is owned by Bethesda, obviously.

Havent read any Ulfric/Dovahkiin where the Dovahkiin is a dark brotherhood member. Doesn't play a big role. And honestly, this is just a rambling thing with no real purpose. I just needed to write something.

* * *

The _dovahkiin_ had always been very cloak and dagger. He remembered her from Helgan- a silent Breton girl, barely twenty, with pure white hair and cold blue eyes. She was as bitter as the Skyrim winters, a frost of a wraith with a gaze that could chill you to the bone.

She'd not spoken once on their journey- she'd been captured, along with he and his soldiers, crossing the border from Cyrodiil. Though Rolof had asked her name, she seemed determined not to speak. When the dragon attacked, she'd managed to escape with Rolof, and had disappeared for months.

Ulfric had inquired after her, once, from Rolof, and her safety.

Apparently she'd parted ways with him and had not gone to see his sister, in Riverwood as he asked, and did not wish to became any more enraptured in the Civil War than what was already done. When asked to join the Stormcloak Rebellion, she answered thusly: "Tis not my life to give."

Much later, though, he saw her. She approached him in the Palace of Kings, and requested to join the Stormcloaks. He was surprised. "Only the foolish or the courageous approach a Jarl without a summons," he remarked. The Jarl leaned forward and stared at her with a critical eye. Her build was small, and her frame more suited for light armor. She held only a single weapon at her waist, a dagger, which, he could tell, had seen much combat.

"And what makes you think you would be suited as a soldier?" He asked. "You are no true daughter of Skyrim, a Breton from High Rock." Her eyes flashed and a chill washed over him. He resisted the urge to flex his fingers, the tips falling numb.

"I would not judge so quickly if I were you, _My Jarl_." Her words were honeyed and coated bitter resentment. "I was born here, and have as many a right to defend my home as you do."

"You came from Cyrodiil-" He recalled. They were crossing the opposite sides of the border, but were still caught in the same skirmish. He did remember her taking down a few Imperial soldiers, and the surprise at such a feat from such a small woman.

"A business trip." She interrupted. He raised a brow. Her tone was clipped, and she did not want him to continue the subject. But he was Jarl, and the true High King, and she would do well to be reminded of her place.

"Of what kind?" He asked, admittedly curious.

Her eyes flashed in displeasure, but that was the only indication. "A personal nature. It concerned..." she hesitated for a moment, then continued, "family." This woman, no, a girl, still so young, was a part of something dark and sinister. He could feel it in his bones, and it concerned him. However, that past could be of use, if in the right hands.

"And you think you can be of use to me?" He repeated his question. A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes, but the warmth was quickly stamped by the cold. He found himself disappointed. She could be a beauty, if she rid herself of her cold demeanor.

"I know how to kill, if that's what you ask."

"That is not the only thing that makes a good soldier." He said firmly. "Following orders, listening to your commanding officers, and knowing when to strike as well as to stay your hand. Having an ounce of mercy. Can you do those things?"

"I assure you, My Jarl," she said sweetly, "I can do all those things and more."

"So we are clear- as long as your criminal past remains there, and you fight for me with honor and integrity, then I welcome you among our ranks," Talos knows they needed more soldiers. . "Speak to Galmar. But first, what is your name?"

"Arielle," she said. "Arielle of... Dawnstar." She smiled then, but it was not welcoming. It was as cold and bitter as the heavy snow.

That was his first meeting with the_ dovahkiin_, and it left him cold.

:Sk:

His next meeting with the _dovahkiin_ had been after she had journeyed to the Greybeards, and her retrieval of the Jagged Crown. She was resting within his palace, as she was welcome, seeing as she was _Dovahkiin_ and one of his more important soldiers, and sketching. It was hard to believe that someone who killed so easily, and did so well (most of his soldiers grieved by filling their bellies with mead. She, she did not. And could he help but find this strange?) with a nimble art that required so much delicacy.

"You cannot sneak up on me, My Jarl." She said softly. Her blue eyes lifted up and watched him with a steady gaze, a small smile on her blue lips. Originally he had believed her ill, but no, it was not the case. Arielle often made rouge from a blue shell and paste, which, apparently, she would use on her own face.

"I was not aware I was attempting to." Ulfric admitted. She smiled slightly and went back to her charcoal drawing.

"You did not wish to alert me, I could tell by your walk." She paused. "If you wished to walk amongst the shadows, you must not wear such heavy armor."

"Do you do that often? Walk amongst the shadows, I mean." Arielle smiled again. It was not cold, like the first time they met. No, it was altogether... different, and he was unaware how he should interpret it.

"My Jarl," she said, "My life is amongst the shadows."

"A thief, then?" He asked. She did not question him. It was no secret that she would not reveal her past, not even to the Jarl, when questioned. If not for her usefulness, Ulfric might have had her imprisoned for it. Such times brought suspicion, and he could not discredit anyone for being an Imperial spy. Not even Arielle, though, more especially Arielle.

"You tread a path you do not wish to follow, My Jarl."

"Everyone has their secrets-"

"So let me keep mine." Arielle said coldly. She continued with her drawing.

"I'm afraid I must insist." Ulfric said. Usually, he felt unable to cross Arielle. She had an aura of strength so rare in a young woman like her, and her eyes danced like they had seen so many more winters then they actually had. She was cross, violent, and cold. But she was also honest and would tell him the truth to whatever questioned he asked- when it did not concern her. He could count Arielle as one of his more trusted advisers, something he could not say for everyone.

"You cannot refuse me if you find out the truth." Arielle demanded. "If you wish it, you shall have it- but I must have your word that _nothing_ will change."

"You have my word as Jarl and the High King, Talos be my witness, that nothing will change." She leaned back and stared him down, though he clearly had the upper hand. Her gaze was cold and he knew that she was angry with him, but he could also see that she would not refuse him. He felt diminished underneath her stare, as if he was not to be High King of Skyrim. She was not satisfied with his vow, it was difficult to truly satisfy Arielle, but she would tell him.

"I am a child of the Void," she stated simply. "When I die, Svongarde will not greet me, but the cold embrace of the Night Mother."

"And does this make you glad?" He asked. He was not surprised, in fact, he had suspected it all along. Still, the truth, sometimes, could be a difficult thing to hear. He did not ask if the kill pleased her, he did not ask her why she killed innocents or why she would even slaughter someone, an innocent, in the first place. But the end result- that, he was curious about.

"It pleases me, yes." Arielle admitted. Her voice softened. "When I am alone, and lonely," more truth she would ever admit than anyone, and the only thing she would admit to him, "I remind myself of this, and it comforts me."

"And this mother..." Her eyes flashed in warning. "Does she truly love you?"

"More than my own mother ever did," she said this with such finality, he wondered who was the true Jarl there.

:Sk:

"My King," Arielle greeted. She was in the shadows, as always, when he saw her. The war was over, the battle won, the dragons defeated, thanks to Dovahkiin. But she did not join in the celebrations- a drink in her hand and finely dressed as she was, she did not join in the revelries. It did not surprise Ulfric, truly, he expected no less from her.

"Arielle," he returned. He smiled genuinely, because even he could not celebrate in such happiness. Skyrim was no longer part of the Empire, and yes, more battles were to be won, but they would win, because it was home. And, he could honestly say, he was glad to see her. Her eyes lighted with an unfamiliar warmth, and a smile flickered across her lips. "It is good to see you."

"I cannot stay long, My King." Arielle said. "I have a family to return to, now that the dragons are dealt with and you are on the throne."

"You will not stay?" He asked, disappointed. It surprised him to admit such.

"No, My King, Im afraid not."

"And If I ordered you to stay?" Ulfric asked. A smile played on her lips.

"I would obey," she said softly. "For a time. But in the radiance of the King's newfound happiness, a child of darkness cannot linger long. You know this. Eventually, I will have to return home."

Ulfric slowly approached her. He took her hands and enveloped them with his own. Her skin was smooth compared to his own. Odd, for an assassin. "And," he breathed, "If I asked you to stay?"

Arielle closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. "You are My King," she whispered. "And I could not help but obey."

"Will you leave?" Her eyes opened, and met his own. They were filled with complete honesty, and it filled him with hope.

"Yes," she whispered. "But I will always return to My King."


End file.
